Compulsive Liar
by TatraMegami
Summary: Harry can't help it, he has to lie. Although, the insanity added to it is his choice. Starts post OotP, resumes post DH.
1. Compulsive Liar

A/N: Just a random story that I wrote out. I have a few other little fics that go along with this one though. A standard disclaimer does apply. Enjoy!

Compulsive Liar.

The Prologue:

"I have done it," Harry announced as he made his grand entrance into the Great Hall of Hogwarts. "I have killed Voldemort."

"I am right here, Potter," Lord Voldemort, himself, said.

Harry peered at the Evil Wizard holding the entire castle hostage by wand point. Various Death Eaters were spread throughout the Great Hall, their wands at the ready.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed, rocking back on his heels. "This is a great likeness."

"What?" Voldemort asked, losing his creepy smile.

"How did you do it?" Harry asked as he walked over to the Dark Wizard and started circling around him. "Is it a glamour? Polyjuice? Muggle makeup?"

"Neither of those things," Voldemort exclaimed, stepping away nervously from the Boy-Who-Lived.

"That really is Voldemort, mate," Ron shakily said, to frazzled by the Dark Lord to even notice his choice of words.

"Really?" Harry asked, tilting his head as he looked at Voldemort.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort cast, his wand lazily pointed at the middle of the Great Hall. Almost no one noticed as one of Voldemort's Death Eaters dropped dead from the misaimed spell.

"Oh," Harry said, pouting for just a second. He then began to pat himself down, rolling up his sleeves to check his arms.

"What now, Potter?" Voldemort asked, glaring at The Chosen One impatiently.

"I'm checking myself for hidden injuries," Harry absently answered.

"Why?" Voldemort asked, his voice almost curious.

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry almost yelped.

"No," Snape dryly muttered, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

Voldemort glared at Snape, this was his show, by gummit! "No, it is not," Voldemort said loudly, take that Snape!

"Well, when I killed Voldemort, he somehow managed to get back to that disembodied spirit state. Then he had his Bizarre Foods Experts kidnap me, and bring me back to the graveyard from the Third Task," Harry started to explain, while simultaneously taking off his shoes to check his feet.

"Then what happened?" Voldemort asked. He always loved a good story.

"Once at the graveyard, they must have mixed the bones of Voldemort's muggle father with Pettigrew's remaining hand, I hope he died of blood loss," Harry added in a dark tone. "And then they must have stolen some of my blood to complete the mixture and brought Voldemort back to life."

"Logical," Voldemort nodded, despite the fact that he should have known all of this already if it really had happened. He shot a distrusting look at the closest Death Eater, they had obviously acted without orders once again.

"They must have taken my blood from some hidden place." Harry started rolling up the legs of his pants to check if that's where they had hidden the injury.

"They could have healed you." Voldemort turned away from the Death Eater, who sighed in relief.

"You think so?" Harry tilted his head in consideration.

"Snape hates the sight of blood," Voldemort confided.

"And all of this happened so that Voldemort would be brought back to life once again." Harry sighed to himself as he rolled the legs of his pants back down. Killing some one just so that they could come back again in less than a day was tiring.

"So, I guess that means that I need to start planning out my third Reign of Terror." Voldemort also sighed, scratching his head with his wand, granting himself a full head of hair. It had come out as pure silver, which actually wasn't too bad for a Slytherin.

Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy got jealous at such silver hair, he had only managed to get his hair to turn a pale blonde. Unnoticed, Malfoy turned his Lord's hair into a deep green color. Not quite Slytherin green, but it would do.

"I guess so," Harry answered Voldemort's question. He nodded his head along in thought with the Dark Lord.

"About how long do you think the Ministry will give me this time?" Voldemort asked, lips pursed in thought.

"Probably through to the end of summer," Harry estimated.

"Good, that will give me a few months to get my thoughts together and come up with another plan." Voldemort nodded decisively, he would come up with the best plan ever by the time the Ministry noticed he was back.

"Good luck," Harry cheerfully wished.

"All right, boys, it's time to go," Voldemort ordered. He wheeled around to face the doors and motioned for his Death Eaters to leave.

"I hate it when he calls us boys," Crabbe Senior muttered to Goyle Senior, who grunted in agreement.

"Let's go, let's go," Voldemort urged as he started to herd the Death Eaters out of the Great Hall.

"Bye, see you later." Harry waved as Voldemort and his Death Eaters left the castle. One of the Death Eaters dragged along the dead Death Eater, that had been killed by Voldemort, as he left the building.

Everyone in the Great Hall stayed motionless as the doors crashed shut behind the Death Eaters. Since they were so quiet, they could faintly hear Voldemort scolding the one Death Eater for slamming the door. The people in the Great Hall were still trying to figure out what had happened. One minute, Voldemort was about to kill them one by one until he had Harry, the next, Harry had convinced Voldemort that he had come back to life a second time. It was very confusing.

Harry was the only exception in the shock that had taken over the Great Hall. He calmly sat down at the Gryffindor table and served himself dinner. His socks and shoes were still on the other side of the Hall, ignored by the eating teen.

Ron was the first one to regain his voice. "What the Hell was that?"

"Harry, what was that?" Hermione regained her voice only a second later, not noticing that she was repeating Ron.

"Didn't you hear my explanation?" Harry looked up from his food. "I defeated Voldemort, Death Eaters kidnapped me, and brought Voldemort back to life."

"But, Harry, you've been in bed all day," Hermione exclaimed.

"I was?" Harry wrinkled his head in thought. He was pretty sure that he hadn't been, otherwise, how else would he have defeated Voldemort for the second time?

"Remember, you refused to get up because we had Potions class in the morning and went back to sleep?" Hermione tried to jog her friend's memory.

"Yeah, mate, we checked on you when we could, but you were asleep the whole time," Ron confirmed.

"Really?" Harry asked. He was so sure he'd remember blowing off Potions class.

"Yes." Hermione was firm, he had been in bed all day and there was no way that he would have been able to defeat a Dark Lord, let alone be an instrument in bringing him back to life.

"Huh." Harry blinked in confusion. "Are you sure it's not possible I killed Voldemort while you were in class, went back to bed when you checked on me, and then was kidnapped while you were in your next class?"

"We have spells on your bed from preventing that from happening again," Hermione informed him.

"I suppose I could have dreamed it." Harry shrugged before going back to eating. Whatever made Hermione happy made life easier.

"You convinced Voldemort that you had killed him and Death Eaters brought him back all based on a dream?" Hermione's voice wavered as she asked.

"I guess so." Harry shrugged. It really wasn't a big deal, Voldemort would believe anything at this point. Not having a physical brain for so long had really taken its toll on the Evil Lord.

Hermione thumped her head on to the table, just barely missing her plate.

"Wow, mate." Ron blinked, amazed at it all.

Harry leaned closer to his friend. "Between you and me, I think it did happen."

"How?" Ron asked.

"Apparition." Harry winked at his friend.

Hermione began to bang her head on the table. She wasn't going to try and explain again to Harry that Apparition in Hogwarts was impossible. It would be no use, Harry never seemed to get impossible things, no matter how many times she tried to explain.

Dumbledore finally got over his shock enough to stand up. "In light of Mister Potter's interesting save, classes shall be cancelled for the week, I think we all could use it."

Cheers erupted in the Great Hall as people slowly recovered from their shock and began to feel relief. The professors left the Great Hall, leaving to go get drunk while they processed what had happened. The students, left behind unsupervised, started partying even before the last professor had made it out of the room.

The parties lasted for the rest of the week before people had to get back to their daily lives. Another two days of classes were cancelled as people recovered, as there wasn't enough magical help for all of the students in the school. After that, life went on as normal.


	2. Sadly, Harry is Insane

A/N: This is about two years post DH. There is a bit of a plot skulking around within this series of oneshots, but doesn't show up in this story.

Sadly, Harry is Insane.

"I'm in love with Lord Voldemort and I'm changing my House to Hufflepuff," Harry announced one day. This was preceded by a Sonorus charm, so everyone in the Great Hall heard him.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ginny asked in concern.

"I'm fine, despite years of living a lie."

"A lie?" Ginny stared at Harry.

"For years I have refrained from joining the right side, but no more. I shall no longer be a coward and I shall join Voldemort in his crusade of hypocrisy." Harry pumped his fist in the air to show his fanaticism.

"Harry, Voldemort has been dead for over a year," Hermione interjected, as Ginny was struck silent. Draco Malfoy hid his wand back up his sleeve, even though he was hidden in the shadows.

"Then why are we in Hogwarts?" Harry crossed his arms confidently, even though his logic didn't quite add up.

"To visit Neville, and congratulate him?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"Then why is Dumbledore here?" Harry asked, pointing to the shadows where Draco was.

"Dumbledore?" came the repeated question. They all turned to look.

Draco stepped out of the shadows, looking exactly like Dumbledore. It's amazing what good glamors can do. He gave them a full smirk, although all they could see was a large smile. "The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

"I don't know who on earth could have done such a thing." Harry shook his head in disappointment.

"You were the one who told us that Dumbledore was dead," Ron sputtered out.

"Yes, on Voldemort's orders." Harry nodded his head.

"But we saw his body," Ginny blurted out.

"Do you have his body right now?" Harry asked.

"It's buried." Everyone was definitely staring at him as though he was crazy.

"Then how can you be sure that he's not Dumbledore?" Harry gestured toward Draco.

"Because Dumbledore has been dead for years," Ron answered.

"And I suppose that next you'll tell me that the love of my life is dead, too?" Harry raised his eyebrow in scorn.

"Love of your life?" Ron wasn't the only one confused about Harry's phrasing.

"Lord Voldemort? Tall man, red eyes?" Harry clarified.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione finally asked.

"No, I'm not. Voldemort is dead, and I'm not allowed to be a Hufflepuff." Harry abruptly changed gears.

"Why would you want to be a Hufflepuff?" Neville asked.

"They play a mean fiddle," Harry answered.

Draco stepped back into the shadows and dropped his glamor. Harry might be a little insane, but his pranks sure were fun to assist in. No one noticed as 'Dumbledore' disappeared from the room.

"Maybe you should go down to the infirmary," Hermione suggested, getting up to help him out.

"That's a great idea, Hermione. I love the infirmary." Harry nodded cheerfully. "Do you think that they'll let me stay over the night?"

"I think there's a strong possibility," Hermione answered when she regained her voice.

"I love how you have little privacy, makes for a relaxing time," Harry explained, allowing Hermione to guide him over to the doors.

"If you'll allow me," Draco said as he swept out from the shadows. He was again wearing a glamor to make him look like someone else. He now looked like Lord Voldemort, causing a commotion.

"Voldemort! They said you were dead." Harry threw himself at Draco and hugged him.

"The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Draco repeated. No one really noticed the repetition, still freaking out over the reappearance of Voldemort.

"How?" Hermione asked, pointing her wand at Draco.

"Magic," Harry happily said, still holding onto Draco.

"Let's get you to the infirmary," Draco said. He started walking, dragging Harry out of the Great Hall.

The Gryffindor Alumni stayed motionless for a few seconds before racing after Harry and 'Voldemort.' But, they were too late, 'Voldemort' was no where to be seen. Harry was sitting at a table near the Entrance doors, however, playing chess with Draco.

Harry was sent to a Healer a short while later, but that's another story.


	3. A Visit to the Healer

A/N: Another random story. These are fun though.

* * *

A Visit to the Healer.

It took Hermione a while to convince Harry to at least see a Healer for one visit, but she did succeed. She badgered him every time she saw him, and she made sure that she saw him everyday, until he agreed. She had even gotten the others together for an intervention, Harry was so annoyed that he agreed.

So that was how he ended up here, seated across from the man. His name was Henshaw, and he had been a Healer for a number of years. Wizarding Healers weren't quite like muggle psychologists, but there were Healers that dealt with the mind. Of course, the Mind Healer sitting across from him couldn't use Legilimency to get a more in depth view of Harry's mind, since Harry's Occlumency had really improved over the years. So, the Healer was left to do it the muggle way.

"You've been very quiet there, Harry," Henshaw commented. It had been several minutes since their session started, and neither of them had said a word until now.

"Worried that I'm creating something dark in my mind?" Harry asked.

"Are you creating something dark in your mind?" Henshaw raised his eyebrow to show that he didn't believe Harry.

"Yes." Harry stared straight at Henshaw.

"And what dark thing are you creating in your mind?" Henshaw let a trace of amusement show in his voice.

"I am imaging various tortures I could inflict on you in the name of my Lord." Harry couldn't help himself, the latter part of that sentence was said slightly louder than the earlier part.

"Ah, yes. Let's talk about this 'Lord' of yours." Henshaw clasped his hands together.

"Ah, yes. My Lord." Harry clasped his hands together in a mockery of Henshaw.

"When was the first time you met?" The good healer's tone sounded as though he thought that Harry's 'Lord' was a figment of his imagination.

"The first time we met was a few months after I turned one. He came to visit me on Halloween." Harry didn't mention that 'his Lord' killed his parents during that visit. That was common knowledge after all. "After that, I didn't see him again until my first year. At first, all we had were glimpses of one another, but then we finally met face to face on back of the head."

"Face on back of the head?"

"Voldemort had possessed the Defense teacher. It was that meeting when he made the offer that would change my life."

"And what offer was that?"

"An unlimited supply of Mars Bars if I would join him. I accepted, who wouldn't?"

Henshaw mumbled out an agreement as encouragement for Harry to continue.

"Of course, then he tried to hug me, and his host turned to dust. So, I didn't get any of the chocolate he promised me." Harry looked mournful at this.

"And your next meeting with him?"

"Well, there was a piece of Voldemort's soul that I met during second year, but he didn't remember his promise. So, I suppose the next meeting would be the end of my fourth year, when he came back to life."

"And the offer was still open?"

"Unfortunately, that offer had expired only a month before the Third Task. But, he made a much better offer after his announcement." Harry still looked a bit disappointed at the loss of chocolate.

"His announcement?" Henshaw prompted.

"His first words to me were: 'Luke, I am your father.'"

"Luke?" Henshaw was beginning to lose his composure, for the first time he was showing his confusion.

"Hey, you would be confused about your son's name after being without a physical brain for years," Harry defended.

"So, when you said that you loved You-Know-Who at Hogwarts, you were talking about a paternal love?" Henshaw looked slightly relieved.

"Of course I was, why would I love my father any other way?" Harry gave Henshaw a confused look.

"So You-Know-Who is your father," Henshaw asked for clarification.

"Are you okay, Doc? Of course James Potter was my father." Just to add in a little more confusion. "Why else would I be named Harry James Potter?"

"You just finished saying that the Dark Lord was your father." Henshaw was forced to clarify his name choice for Voldemort, he was confused enough without it.

"No, I said that Voldemort said that he was my father. Or, rather, Luke's father." Harry grinned at the Healer. This was quite amusing.

"But, you love him like a father?"

"More like an Uncle, really." Harry tilted his head in thought.

"And all of this spawns from?" Henshaw was trying to get back to the stability of routine questions.

"My deep-seated fear of potatoes."

"Deep-seated fear of potatoes," Henshaw numbly repeated. Never before had he had anyone blame their confusing love of a person on a fear of a starchy vegetable.

"Evil little things, always lurking in the darkness to bleed you dry. Always staring at you with their many eyes."

"Potatoes." Harry seemed to have broken the Healer, who was currently staring off into the distance.

"Potatoes," Harry rumbled darkly.

A chime went though the office, signaling that the hour long session was over. Henshaw came back to reality at this and look at his watch in relief. Harry blinked and checked his watch. His watch told him that it was time for him to 'run away as fast as you can."

"Well, our session is over. I think it went well, how about you?" Henshaw seemed to have slipped back into his professional mode.

"I think that it went so well that I don't have to come back again." Harry looked innocently over to the Healer.

"Not until next week, I don't think." ...Hey, it was worth a try.

"What happens next week?" Harry lost most of the innocence in his look.

"Next week we'll talk more. But, I have a task for you to do until then. I'd like you to keep a journal." Henshaw picked up a notebook from his desk and handed it to Harry.

"To put a piece of my soul into it, like Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"No, just to write in. I want you to write anything that comes to mind." Henshaw instructed.

"All right, then." Harry bounced up from his chair. He strode out of the office, waving his goodbye while also turning the furniture in the office a nice red color.

Henshaw remained seated for a few minutes, rubbing his forehead to try and relieve his headache. He gave up after a minute, however, and got up to raid his liquor stash. Sometimes he hated his job.


	4. The Journal of Harry Potter

A/N: Randomly decided to post this story. This one is a bit strange, but it is fun. And, it might be explained later on...

* * *

**The Journal of Harry Potter, Lord of the Flying Monkies.  
**

Dear Monkies,

Today I had tea with our dear Voldemort. He had those nice macaroons that you love so much, so I saved a couple of them. You'll find them pressed between the next pages.

As you know, these series of letters shall be read by Healer Henshaw, so I cannot discuss any of the particulars relating to our next gathering. I am pleased of what I've heard of your progress so far.

For Healer Henshaw's benefit, I shall inform you of my last meeting with Hermione and Ron. I know that you do not particularly care for the details, so I shall keep it vague.

They were flush with success over my visit with Healer Henshaw. But, they were strangely reluctant to speak of my frame of mind.

Discussion then turned to Quidditch. Mainly about how well the Cannons did in their last match. I know that, as flying monkies, you go to every Quidditch game, so I shall not bore you with the details.

Their visit ended with dinner, which I somehow managed to explode during the meal. We were discussing the pending trial, and I could not help my temper. The one good thing about it was that I had forgotten dessert.

I'm not worried though, they shall doubtlessly check on me in the morning.

About our meeting tomorrow, I'm afraid I shall be late. My appointment with Healer Henshaw ends a couple minutes before our scheduled meet.

And, with that, I shall let you go. I'll owl you this message, and the cookies, as soon as I can.

- H.P., Lord of the Flying Monkies.

Dear Flying Monkies,

Had my appointment with Healer Henshaw today, as I have told you.

I know I have also informed you how pleased I am of the progress made, but I shall reiterate myself anyway. Our plan is almost ready to be initiated, I cannot wait.

Healer Henshaw has allowed me to keep the contents of this journal secret for another few days. Which is good, as I do not think he would be so pleased that I am sharing the contents with you first. Luckily, it will not matter by the time he views this.

It was nice of you to leave a few crumbs for him. They were good macaroons. I'm afraid that this book might have left a trail of crumbs in his office.

I'm also thinking about turning my hair green for the next couple of days. I have several important meetings this week, and I think that many of the people that I am seeing shall appreciate it.

Healer Henshaw might not appreciate it. Though, he'll cover up his discomfort with a deluge of questions.

I should go start that potion that we talked about. It needs some time to simmer, so I need to start it before midnight.

- H.P., Lord of the Flying Monkies.

Dear Flying Monkies,

Sorry that the last letter ended abruptly. My date for the convention showed up earlier than expected, and I was obliged to abandon my journal.

I know that I had mentioned this convention to you earlier, wanting to see if you would go. You do remember that you begged off on account of the subject matter. I do have to tell you that you missed quite the time. Those Hufflepuffs can throw quite a party. The lectures were amazing, I never knew the intricacies of the conduct expected from those of the Badger House.

I do think that this shall fit our plans just fine, even though you do not care for the manner in which it is given. I only ask for your patience in the matter.

Tomorrow shall be a full day. I am meeting with quite a few people, some of them with you. I shall endeavor to remember the case you wanted and bring it to our first meeting of the day.

I am sure that Healer Henshaw shall be quite confused about our discussions when he reads of this. I do feel sorry that I am not explaining things and that I am not writing in the manner in which he asked for. But, as you know, there are too many things going on for me to be able to write frivolous. My letters to you are the only manner of writing that I have time for and, as you've noticed, I barely have time to finish these letters.

In fact, I must now retire for the night. I shall see you tomorrow.

H.P., Lord of the Flying Monkies.

Dear Flying Monkies,

It's Thursday, as you know, and I have just returned from my meetings.

I have found the perfect building for us. It has all of the specifications that you asked for. The agent says that we could look at it this evening, if you wish to.

I'd be obliged if you fire called, so we may discuss this.

I managed to dodge another meeting with Ron and Hermione. They left a letter. Apparently they came while I was out, and waited for quite a while.

I do regret not informing them of our plans, but I know that they would not approve of what we are going to do. I am sure that most people who know me, and know of me, would protest. But, by tomorrow, that won't matter.

Another thing I wish to tell you about is what might be our first case. I'm sure you will disapprove of the person, but I shall explain everything to you when we next talk.

Fire call me, if you would.

- H.P., Lord of the Flying Monkies.

Dear Flying Monkies,

I am so glad that you approve of the building that I picked out. It really is in the best location, even if we do have instantaneous means of travel.

Tomorrow I am obliged to hand this journal back to Healer Henshaw. We still have a few days before our plans come to fruitation. But I am not too worried, as there is no way that the procedure can be stopped.

This is the last entry in this book, as my meeting with Healer Henshaw is set as the first thing in the morning. I have a feeling that I am frustrating him, but what can I do?

In any case, I shall speak to you in person tomorrow.

- H.P., Lord of the Flying Monkies.

_  
Harry copied the writing of the last entry of the journal and gave it to the waiting owl. He closed the leather bound book and leaned back in his chair with a smirk._


End file.
